


Rifts and Robots

by Paycheckgurl



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000, Torchwood
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Rift (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paycheckgurl/pseuds/Paycheckgurl
Summary: Jack and Ianto’s date at the movies is interrupted by two robots with no theater etiquette.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Kudos: 20





	Rifts and Robots

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to include information about each franchise within the text of the story so that it can be understood without being familiar with one side or the other. 
> 
> On the MST3K side of things this is set post season 10 and pre-The Return (Torchwood season 2 is set in 2007/2008). So Crow still has his NY accent.

Captain Jack Harkness stared at the movie tickets in his hand, and then at his boyfriend as the pair walked from their parking spot to the Electro theater. “Ianto, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re terrible at movie dates.”

His boyfriend, Ianto Jones, raised an eyebrow. “Is there a right way to take that?” 

“Who actually goes on a movie date...to watch the movie?!” 

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Not  _ everyone  _ goes to the cinema for the express purpose of making out in the back like teenagers.”

Jack looked at him a bit disbelievingly. 

“Even if most people do,” he amended. “But that’s still not everyone.” 

“Uh huh,” Jack said teasingly. 

Jack’s trademark World War II greatcoat swished about slightly in the Welsh winds as they walked. He made it a point to walk a little closer to Ianto, as he traced his thumb over Ianto’s hand, as it intertwined with his own. If this was the only physical contact he was going to get for hours because  _ someone  _ was too focused on things like the  _ plot _ or god forbid the  _ artistic use of camera angles  _ then he was going to make it count. The somewhat chaste handholding might have escalated to arm overreached his shoulder as they walked, and then a hand slowly moving down his back, and “accidentally” across his arse. Ianto simply smiled indulgently and moved the hand back up his middle back, but didn’t break the hug as they walked. Jack would take it. 

Once inside the Electro they were met by a familiar young face. 

“Jack! Ianto! I’m glad you’re here.” Johnathon, the owners’ son and the projection operator, called. 

“Of course!” said Ianto. “Even when we're off the clock, we can make time for Classic Sci-Fi Sunday!” 

“Not on the clock? Oh. I thought you were here for the, errrr the issue.”

“Issue?” asked Jack. 

They exchanged glances. They’d banished the Night Travelers, the last “incident” Torchwood had dealt with at the Electro. They’d been sure of it. To say nothing of the fact that it was a rare, sunny and clear afternoon for the city of Cardiff. No rain or darkness, the condition on which the Night Travelers thrived. 

“Well, come see.”

Johnathon led them to the screening room. The screening room that was supposed to be showing their classic sci-fi double feature, Ianto couldn’t help but think a bit ruefully. The screening was empty, except for in front of the screen, in the first row. In that front row seat were a pair of...well, robots. Robots that looked to be made of found Earth objects, anyways. 

The one on the left was made of what looked like a desktop sized red gumball machine, complete with a clear dome on its head. The gumball machine head was attached to a small red barrel that might have formerly contained a set of small plastic monkeys. The barrel shaped midsection sat atop some domed device that seemed to let the robot hover in place (although it mostly just sat atop of the theater seat). 

The robot to the right had long, spindly arms and legs and was painted a metallic gold. It had a bird-like beak, that almost resembled a bowling pin. On top of its head sat what looked like some kind of net. 

“Hey Malcom Reynolds what’s with the coat?” called the golden robot in what sounded strangely like a New York accent. 

Jack blinked. 

“Robots that have seen Firefly?” asked Ianto to no one in particular. 

On the theater screen a woman faced a camera as a black and white movie monster menaced her behind. 

“Look behind you!” shouted the red robot, at the screen. His accent was American, but in a rich baritone that was regionally a little harder to place. “Still behind you, still behind you!  _ Wow _ this shot is really long long.” 

Ianto furrowed his brow. “Hey! We’re in a theater. Have some respect for the craft!” 

“How about no, Alfred Pennyworth,” said the gold robot. Ianto now rather annoyed at was either dig at his trademark suit (they’d came straight from an early morning shift at the hub) or his butler-like demeanor (even if he did play the whole butler persona up a bit, that didn’t mean he appreciated the literal hunk of junk making fun him for it). 

“And who might you two be?” asked Jack. He reached for his Webley automatically, not pulling it out of its holster but letting his fingers trace against it. 

“ _ Tom Servo _ ,” sang the red one like he was giving some kind of musical performance. Maybe it was because of the baritone, but Jack was willing to acknowledge the little thing had a nice singing voice. 

“Crow T Robot,” said the gold one. 

Ianto couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does the T stand for The?” 

“What of it, Vick Van Dyke?”

“If that was a dig at my accent, first of all I’ll have you know I’m  _ Welsh, _ you are in  _ Wales _ , and whatever accent Vick Van Dyke does in Mary Poppins is supposed to be English. Which leads me to point number two: you two aren’t local, are you?” 

“Bite me!”

“Christ, it’s like dealing with Owen.” 

“Listen,” said Jack. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Tell us where you’re from and your business here, or I will shoot the wires out of your casings.” 

“That is no way to treat paying customers,” said Tom Servo. 

Johnathon chose then to speak up, cutting into Jack’s bad cop routine. “Errrr...actually neither of you paid and you scared off the actual paying customers,” he said. 

“That wasn’t our fault!” said gold one, Crow. “All we did was sit down.” 

“And talked loudly over the movie,” said Johnathon. 

“Then screen a better movie.” 

Johnathon sputtered slightly. 

“Okay that’s it,” said Jack. “Ianto, bag them.” 

Ianto reached for the red robot. He attempted valiantly to fly out of Ianto’s hands. “Let me go, I have rights!” shouted Tom Servo, Ianto strengthened his hold. 

Beside him, Jack had pinned “Crow T Robot”. 

“I have zip ties in the SUV,” said Ianto. “If we need to contain them some more.” 

“He’s pretty weak to be honest,” said Jack. “This isn’t taking much effort.”

“Hey!” said Crow. 

“Even our captors think you’re weak,” said Tom. 

“I’m literally holding you like a rugby ball, you’re not exactly in a place to judge,” said Ianto. 

The pair carried the robot back to Torchwood SUV to process them at the hub. 

“Well there goes my Sunday,” Ianto said with a sigh. 

* * *

Back at the Torchwood hub Gwen, Owen and Tosh looked at Jack and Ianto with surprise, for a number of reasons. They hadn’t expected them back from their date yet. They’d also chosen to take the invisible lift, and people slowly descending down it into their underground base standing on what looked like nothing but a slab of concrete always commanded attention. And they were both holding onto chatty robots— chatty robots screaming about their Miranda Rights. 

“Um hi,” said Gwen addressing the bots, as Jack and Ianto stepped off the lift. “You don’t technically have Miranda Rights...that’s an American thing. In the UK it’s called the ‘Right to Silence’. I don’t think they exactly apply to...are you robots?” 

“Also, this is Torchwood,” said Jack. “We’re outside the government and beyond the police.”

“You did what to the wood?” asked Crow. 

“ _ Torchwood _ ,” repeated Jack. “We’re a secret organization. “Fighting for the future on behalf of the human race. The 21st century is when everything changes. And Torchwood is ready.”

Behind Jack the entire Torchwood team, with their usual level professionalism (which was close to none), mockingly mouthed the familiar speech along with him. 

They all plastered too innocent looks on their faces as he looked around at them. 

“So who are our esteemed guests, anyways?” said Owen. 

“This is, apparently, Tom Servo and Crow T Robot,” said Ianto. “They were disturbing the peace at the Electro.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we know who we are,” said Crow. “What does all that fighting for the human race stuff actually mean?” 

“We contain extraterrestrial threats and monitor the rift in space and time that the city of Cardiff sits on,” said Ianto. 

“Rift in time and space? Was that the glowy light that took us from in front of our TV to that movie theater?” asked Tom. 

“Most likely,” said Tosh. “Most victims of the rift have described a white light.” 

“So you’re like the government guys that wouldn’t let ET phone home?” asked Crow. 

“Well no, not exactly…” said Gwen. 

“So then who are all you people?” asked Crow. “And why are you into leather jackets to the point it looks like you robbed a biker bar?” 

Gwen, Tosh, and Owen looked down at the leather jackets they happened to be wearing. Gwen’s usual black one, Tosh’s purple one, and a brown one Owen was wearing under his lab coat (he didn’t exactly need the jacket, but it looked cool). Tosh reflexively took hers off and draped it over her chair. 

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack said. “You already met Ianto Jones. That’s Gwen, Owen and Toshiko. Gwen is our investigative specialist and police liaison, Owen’s our medic, Tosh is resident tech genius.” 

“Is that why she’s eyeing us like a cat that’s just spotted a goldfish?” asked Crow a bit wearily side eying Tosh. 

“I’m not going to take you apart,” said Tosh defensively. “Although I’m quite interested in what makes you tick.”

Tom Servo chose that moment to break free of Ianto’s now loosened grip and hover towards her. 

“Oh well I’m made primarily of silicon circuits internally, some plastic, and a lot of love. I run Linux but I’m cross compatible with…” the robot happily talked about themselves at top speed, to the point where most of the Torchwood agents lost track. 

“...But anyways I prefer  _ Mobey Dick _ to the  _ Pearl _ , but think  _ Old Man at the Sea _ is a bit underrated when ranking nautical classics,” he finished in a breathless huff. 

“I have no idea how he got on that topic,” said Gwen, stating the obvious a bit. 

“Oh my that’s all fascinating,” said Tosh with genuine enthusiasm. 

“Well,” said Owen. “We have robots. What do we do with them?” 

“We could stick them in the cells until Tosh can properly scan them for threat levels,” said Jack. 

“No need,” said Tosh. “I already scanned them while Tom was talking. He’s made of exactly what he described. He’s advanced, but not to the level of extraterrestrial technology. And he doesn’t contain any weaponry. Just a neat little fan that lets him hover, and an interesting string of seat-of-the-pants artificial intelligence coding.”

“In that case,” said Jack. “Maybe they can just hang around the hub for a bit? Tosh I know you probably want to do a deeper study…”

“Wait so you’re not going to make us watch the worst movies in existence?” asked Crow. “Threaten to hit us with EMPs when we don’t comply with your whims or present you with inventions?”

“Uhhh...no?” said Jack. 

“Worst movies in existence?” Gwen mouthed, confused.

“Present us with inventions?” Ianto mouthed along with Gwen, equally confused. 

“Congratulations you’re officially our favorite captors,” said Tom. 

“We should make them ‘our favorite captors’ t-shirts,” said Crow. 

“Wait. Hold on,” said Gwen. “You were captives?” 

“Oh most of our lives,” said Crow with some disinterest. 

“From the day we were brought online,” said Tom. “Our creator was kidnapped by his bosses and shot into space as part of an experiment that was designed to drive him insane through the worst movies ever made. So he invented us as a way to keep himself sane through the isolation,” said Tom. 

“They also shocked him and deprived him of oxygen from time to time,” said Crow. You know. Typical human behavior. Anyways he escaped a few years into it and they replaced him with a temp they hired. Did the same things to him.” 

“That’s terrible!” said Tosh. “But you mentioned you were watching TV. So you escaped, right?” 

“Escaped, were kind of inadvertently let go by our captors when they were messing with things they shouldn’t, ehhh...same thing. The satellite we lived on crashed. We lived. We hung around and ate hotdish for a bit...and now we’re here. In your weird underground Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle hideout!” 

“How’d he eat and breath in space?” asked Owen. 

“Don’t worry about the science facts,” said Crow. 

“The ‘science facts’ are kind of our job,” said Owen.

“Is it, it wasn’t part of Captain America’s little speech about what you all do?” 

“Guess it wasn’t. Right, well this was fun, but now this deadman is going to go dissect some other dead people,” said Owen. 

“Are you a zombie?” asked Crow. 

Owen raised an eyebrow, and showed off the gunshot wound that’d killed him before his alien technology assisted resurrection. “Sort of, but better looking,” said Owen. 

“I was always taught that dead men tell no tales,” said Crow. 

“And I was always taught Asimov’s Rules of Robotics.”

“Screw Asimov, I want to decide who lives and dies.” 

The others decided (correctly) not to treat that statement as a threat, having made the assessment that if Crow tried anything violent he’d be comically inept at it. 

“Well, I’m not dying apparently,” said Owen. “And neither is Jack over there,” he added under his breath. 

“Can I watch you touch the brains and guts and stuff?” he asked. 

“No. Bugger off.” 

“Make me!” 

“It’s like when a betta fish sees its reflection and starts fighting itself,” said Ianto. 

“Maybe they’ll eventually cancel each other out,” said Gwen. 

“Or form a truce and strike up a friendship?” asked Tosh. 

“That’s a terrifying thought,” said Ianto. 

Owen stalked over to his medical bay with Crow following him.

“Maybe keeping them on the main hub level isn’t going to work,” said Jack. 

“But we can’t put them in the cells! They’ve been jailed their entire lives!” exclaimed Gwen. “We’d be no better then the people that tortured them.” 

“I could offline them,” said Tosh. “Just temporarily until we know where to send them.” 

“No please!” said Crow, running back over to the lift area.

“We’ll be good!” shouted Servo. “Not that. Anything but that.” 

Tosh looked sheepish, having not realized her suggestion would be offensive to the robots. Like Gwen, she was very against the idea of the cells and treating the robots as anything but guests. 

“If you need somewhere to send us off to, send us care of Joel Robinson or Mike Nelson, Eden Prairie, Minnesota. That’s where we were before your weird alien light took us. 

“So those people are your caretakers? If we track them down  you’ll stay out of sight?” 

“Most people who see us around the Midwest just think we’re science projects,” said Tom. “We actually blend in really well, no one questions it. Those snobby independent theater fans earlier were just a fluke.” 

Ianto, as one of those snobby independent theater fans, crossed his arms. 

“We can’t exactly buy them plane tickets to America,” said Tosh. “No matter how well they blend in we’d be getting phone calls from UNIT and the crown about suspicious non-organic life forms going through airport security.” 

“Speak for yourself, I look amazing in Groucho Marx glasses and and a trench coat like Mr. Leader Guy’s over here,” said Crow. 

Tosh tried to hide her laugh behind her hand. 

“I’m thinking Royal Mail,” said Ianto. “Ever hear of Flat Stanley?” 

Jack looked confused. “No?” 

Gwen laughed, apparently getting the reference. 

“It’s a children’s story and a sort of game that goes with it,” explained Gwen. “One of Rhys’ mates, Badger, has a kid that did it. Basically Flat Stanley was born flat like paper or some rubbish...you know, children’s story. At some point in the story he sends himself in the post in an envelope. The little game that goes along with it is that kids make their own Flat Stanley paper dolls and send them to friends and family in different places. The goal is to send him as far as possible and get pictures of him with neat landmarks.” 

“That would be it,” said Ianto. “My nephew did it when I lived in London. Got a picture with little Stanley and Big Ben.” 

“So you’re suggesting that we send two talkative robots in the international mail?” said Jack. “I give it a 90 percent chance the Americans flag them for security reasons immediately.” 

“We can run with the science project thing. Plant a story that they’re just really impressive science fair projects on the internet,” said Tosh. “If they get flagged the post will just do some preliminary research and find the misdirect on the Internet. Worst case scenario, if they get flagged I’ll just hack the post systems and tell the systems to send them on through anyways.” 

“Do I get a Freedom Stamp?” asked Crow. 

“We’re in Wales,” said Ianto. 

“Oh...do I get a dragon stamp?!” 

“I’m a little impressed you knew enough about Wales to know we have a Dragon motif,” said Ianto. 

“I know loads of things, I just don’t like applying them,” said Crow. 

“I guess we’re going to the post office,” said Jack.   


* * *

Jack finished placing the robots into their oversized boxes. 

“We are definitely getting a call from the representatives of the crown about how we’re about to spend on postage,” said Ianto. “The paperwork is going to be hell.”

“I would say we’ll keep in touch but you seem really convinced you’re a secret organization or something, (even though that movie theater kid knew you),” said Crow.

“So long, Farewell, Aufwiedersehn, Goodnight,” called Tom Servo. 

“Save travels!” called Gwen. 

Two weeks later Joel Robinson opened a set of boxes with a suprised looked on his usually rather deadpan face. 

“What did you two get up to?” he asked. 

“Eh nothing much,” said Crow. “Can we watch TV?” 

Joel simply didn’t question it. 

Fin. 


End file.
